


Eyes

by unrestricted_obsessions



Series: When All Else Fades, Will You Return to Me? [6]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Implied Relationships, M/M, Memories, Poor Bilbo, Thorin is a Softie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28395984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrestricted_obsessions/pseuds/unrestricted_obsessions
Summary: Bilbo remembers his eyes, but he begins to understand.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: When All Else Fades, Will You Return to Me? [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054544
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715661) by [AngelynMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelynMoon/pseuds/AngelynMoon). 



> As always, feedback and constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged. We are nearly there, only one more part to go after this, and I really hope you stick around for the last one! Needless to say, I have plans.  
> Again, I offer my apologies, I'm not very proud of this one either, as it feels I rushed the beginning and end especially, but being careless with my writing is a bad habit of mine.

Blue was magnificent. Bilbo hadn't always properly acknowledged or appreciated its existence, but truly it was. Depending on the brightness, softness, shade or light of the colour, it could become many different symbols and descriptions. It could be the sky, a beautiful sapphire, the ocean, or simply the fragile petals on a pretty little flower. 

He had always thought Thorin's eyes were the most brilliant shade of blue, and they were so expressive, so intense. It may sound silly, but Bilbo truly felt he could have lost himself in them forever, examining the minute details and specks within them. Even if he had thought them very beautiful indeed, upon first aqquaintance of the leader of the Company appearances hardly mattered, simply because Thorin was so indingnantly rude. At that time, his eyes seemed cold, cruel and judgemental, like ice. 

It was horribly uncomfortable feeling the prickle down his spine when Thorin would "discreetly" glare at him. Gandalf only seemed amused by the whole thing. 

Being caught by trolls was a whole other issue. At least he got the ponies out, but their immediate terrified stampede far away from danger (as Bilbo wished to do himself) only brought the attention to him, when the dwarves were doing perfectly well keeping said trolls preoccupied until that point. He was hauled up in the air faster than he could blink, and pulled quite taut between two of them. For a moment, he almost considered turning to the grotesque... _thing_ on his left to demand to be let go. As if _that_ would do anything. 

Kili, perhaps most open-minded to the hobbit of all the dwarves, jumped straight into action, yelling out, "Bilbo!" before attempting to run straight up and release him. How he was planning to do that, no-one was sure, but you must understand that it was an instinctual reaction to a friend being in danger, carried out through the recklessness of a young warrior. 

"No!" It wasn't a surprise to see who had refrained the careless dwarf, and yet for once the burrahobbit wasn't frustrated with Thorin, as it was admittedly mere sense. 

"Lay down your arms... or we'll rip his off," one of them said. They pulled tighter on his limbs for emphasis, and Bilbo bit back a retort, instead sending a bitter glare to no-one in particular. 

There was a dreadfully long silence, and in it Thorin stared far more intensely at their burglar. Whether he was annoyed at the inconvenience or blaming Bilbo for it, he wasn't sure. It almost looked as though he was afraid, or worried, but the thought was suppressed for being ridiculous. In the end, he did drop his sword either way, surprising, seeing as though Gandalf was no longer there to scold Thorin about the supposed "Importance of this burglar to your Quest!" but very soon they were all in sacks. 

Nevertheless, they managed to get out of that sticky situation, and much later on, when they were far into the Misty Mountains and dreadfully away from Rivendell, Bilbo thought he discovered another oddity of Thorin Oakenshield (though not so much an oddity, simply something to ponder over). At Balin's tale there was a new light, a new perspective to Thorin's eyes. There was a certain melancholy in them, that of a person who was stripped of everything and expected to make the best of it, of someone with a fierce need to prove themself. His respect for the King heightened slightly. 

He thought perhaps there would be some progress between them when Thorin had sat down beside him in silence for a while, but everything was undone the moment he didn't quite catch onto the ledge, merely hanging from the side of it. Of course, this was all amidst a thunder battle, so there was a certain abundance in stress and panic to the whole situation. None of this, Bilbo felt, excused Thorin's behaviour. 

"He's been lost ever since he left home." 

"He should never have come." 

"He has no place amongst us." 

All things that Bilbo himself thought were very much true, but rather unfair, and it was only the shock of his near possible death that refrained him from shouting in return to the infuriating dwarf. To think so lowly of him without ever providing a chance to prove against those claims, jumping in with his disappointment and moodiness at the first sign of disaster. Yet he couldn't help himself from noticing that though every indication of body language and expression only showed hatred and frustration, Thorin's eyes made him seem just as scared as Bilbo himself. 

Oh, well nevermind, either way! These dwarrow were horrid and he did not know why he had stayed so long in hopes of helping them! Confound them all, and especially their preposterous leader, who only cares for being as mysterious and grudging as possible, and puzzles the hobbit to no end with his endless contradictions. If they were determined that he did not belong, and could not help, then he would leave, and that was that. 

Except poor Bilbo Baggins was never allowed the chance to leave, caught up in riddles in the dark and an odd little ring. The next time he truly saw Thorin, face to face that is, he had only just managed to escape with no small amount of luck, and it seemed that it was finally the dwarf's turn to be bewildered by the hobbit. You see, he had never really experienced kindness from a stranger, simply for the sake of doing good. He was far too used to false generosity or blatant disregard, why should the _burglar_ be any different? Oh, how he regretted these thoughts. 

Bilbo tried to explain – that he merely wanted to help, that he couldn't imagine life without his own home and didn't want to witness someone else be deprived of their's if he could do anything about it, but Thorin didn't understand, didn't have the time to with many Gundabad Wargs and their malicious riders clambering down after them. Though he was beginning to see. 

Upon the Carrock however, it was as though a cloud had cleared from his eyes, which shone all the more bright and vibrant as he pulled the hobbit, _their_ hobbit (his hobbit) into a tight embrace. The warmth was overwhelming, and Bilbo almost complained on how restricted and uncomfortable he was until he realised how intimate and desperate this moment seemed, so he dared not ruin it. Thorin spouted nonsensical apologies, continuing long after they had made amends, excessively dramatic and exasperating, but it was refreshing to see the dwarf so emotional and different to the person Bilbo had grown used to. He seemed so... _normal_ in his awkwardness, and the burglar's heart swelled with fondness. 

Ever since that fateful moment in which he decided on charging out of a tree into a danger far out of his league, Thorin's eyes had changed once again, no longer harsh and skeptical, or perplexed and searching, but rather warm and affectionate. In truth, Bilbo had never been looked upon in such earnest, and it flustered him terribly (though secretly he enjoyed the awed glances cast his way). Of course his parents had loved him dearly, but not even they had held him in such reverence. What was worse (better) was how personal it felt. Many of the dwarrows in their Company now respected him greatly, but Thorin seemed to appreciate and adore everything about him, not just his constant surprises and miracles, but who he was. The feeling only increased as they spent more time together. 

And Bilbo was beginning to reciprocate. He had always thought highly of Thorin as a leader, but as a friend he too began to admire even the small things. 

As the dwarf concentrated, for example, or when he was particularly befuddled, his grimace would always quirk slightly at one side, and his cheek would dent as the sign of him gnawing at the inside of his skin, though his eyes still shone with the excitement of the task at hand.

His most common expression would at first glance seem quite passive and disgruntled, almost a frown, and yet Bilbo noticed in him a spark of amusement as he watched his friends' antics. For the longest time the hobbit had thought him constantly moody, unyeilding to any fun whatsoever, and he was coming to sorely regret it. 

—

Once arriving at Beorn's house, the merriment of the Company vastly increased, if that was at all possible. They sung and talked and laughed, filled to the brim with hearty food and drink, nearly even beginning to appreciate the nature their host and hobbit seemed to adore so much. 

It was the evening after the leader and the burglar had spoken, however briefly, amidst the soft grass and simplistically beautiful flowers, and the daisy chain Thorin had made still lay atop Bilbo's head. To any casual observers who hadn't witnessed the tranquil scene in the garden, those flowers were as natural in their placement as the curls in hobbits' hair. No-one questioned them, but as the dwarrows sought to teach Bilbo one of their traditional dances, the silent King watched the delicate chain carefully. As he leapt, stomped and danced fumblingly about the room, Thorin couldn't help but think their burglar was radiant, and wearing gifts of his only seemed to make him shine all the brighter. 

"Come now, Thorin, you _must_ dance with us!" 

_Yes_ , he thought, _my hobbit is quite captivating._

So he stood to join them. 

—

Mirkwood, immediately following their early celebrations, undoubtedly managed to humble the Company vastly. Perhaps it was the cursed air of the forest, the spiders that had attacked them, facing the very people who had, in their eyes, betrayed them, or perhaps it was the King's mocking of them, requesting the jewels he treasured in return for assistance. 

Or, perhaps, at a very unlikely and far-fetched guess of Bilbo's, that they were trapped in supposedly inescapable dungeons, too _bloody pigheaded_ to accept an offer of release, instead relying an a _hobbit_ from the _Shire_ to bail them out! 

Needless to say, said hobbit was hardly amused, and most of this frustration was directed at the Moronic King himself. Though as he spent what must have been days sneaking around with messages from dwarf to dwarf and trying to gather a secure plan, it was rather difficult to vent his anger appropriately, at least when Thorin would _smile_ at him in such a way. He instead grumbled and suffered in (mostly) silence, ignoring the aches in his back from so much uncomfortable sleeping in many nooks and crannies. 

It wasn't often that he got to see the insufferable dwarf either way, and when he did it had to be kept awfully short, so he would rather not taint their moments with bitterness and petty grudges. 

"Any news?" would always be Thorin's first question at Bilbo's arrival. 

"Nothing of consequence," was his response most days, if he was not relaying a message, "though Fili has taken up his compaints of boredom again. I've yet to decide if that's a good thing." 

"Probably best that he is keeping his spirits." 

"Hm. I suppose so." 

Thorin would smile as Bilbo sits beside him, only the metal bars of his cell between them. They would laugh and talk for a short while, rarely more than a minute, afterwards discussing any progress in their plans of escape. Then, only occasionally, a few seconds perhaps could be spared before the next guard came on their rounds. These moments were spent differently each time. 

One day in particular, however, Bilbo had appeared looking thoroughly ruffled. To explain with a definite answer, he had not been able to find a decent hiding place to sleep the night before, nor had he managed to sneak away any scraps for himself. Thorin, being quite trapped in his cell at that time, could only guess these things from the hobbit's expression, and how his feet dragged across the floor. Nevertheless, he offered up the pathetic rations he had been given for the day, and Bilbo could not muster the strength to decline them.

"Can't you stay," the dwarf started when he finished, "only for a while? I could watch for guards while you slept."  
Thorin had seemed so very concerned and genuine, his gaze boring into the burglar in quite a different way to how his glare did. It warmed Bilbo's heart and stirred his determination once again, so he did not restrain his fond smile in return. He did, however, force himself to shake his head, glancing around anxiously even then. 

" 'M 'fraid not, they'll be coming any minute now." His speech had been quite slurred and lazy, but otherwise he soon seemed wide awake, bounding away and disappearing into the shadows. Thorin sighed after him.

—

Ignoring the horrid barrel ride (or as Bilbo should say, river ride, for he had had no barrel of his own) we may next find the Company in Lake-Town, a rickety yet mostly functioning place built upon bridges in the Long Lake. They had only just managed to be smuggled in by their coins and the quick wits of Bard, but their troubles were not yet over, and it did not help matters that their burglar had come down with a terrible cold (as well as completely forgetting it was his 51st birthday, though that was less relevant at the time). He was given a blanket and plenty of soothing tea, yet still his voice was hardly comprehensible and he could not stop sneezing!

Though they wanted to get ahold of proper weapons and leave as soon as possible, they decided to stay a day longer at the man's invitation. Durin's Day was not yet upon them after all. Bilbo was given many more blankets and an overt abundance of tea, as well as quite a lot of attention from Bard's children.

"We've never seen a hobbit before," Sigrid had explained, much more mature than her younger siblings.

Bard had interjected then, adding on that, "They haven't travelled this far east in... a long time, goodness knows when."

" _We_ thought you were just a fairy story." The youngest girl had blurted matter-of-factly, as though she were accusing the hobbit for his existence.

Bain had turned to her then, looking almost embarrassed and scandalized.  
"Tilda!" he exclaimed.

Bilbo smiled at their antics, reminding him verily of his cousins (many of them in Buckland). But then he had set off a coughing fit by sipping his drink too quickly, and Oin appeared as if from nowhere to shoo them away. He had attempted to say it was perfectly alright, that they weren't causing him any harm, but instead only ended up choking more on the forced words.

When he had finally gathered himself, feeling quite despondent and impatient in his state, Thorin sat beside him. He hadn't attempted any conversation, knowing it would lead to a dead-end with the burglar's struggle to speak. They sat in placid silence for a long while, undisturbed and blithe.

Of course, that didn't last forever–

Stop!

This wasn't right... was it?

He- He didn't know.

It all seemed so pointless, so dull without him.

What was he to do?

Would he remain like this forever? Constantly drifting,

down,

down,

**down.**

No.

Bilbo would not dwell on the mistakes and hardships they went through. He would not purposefully allow himself to sink into the depths of misery.

Thorin... Thorin wouldn't want that for him.

It would be difficult, but he could go on in happiness, which he did not need to rely on anyone else for. He was a Baggins, and he was also a Took. They were mightily resilient, so he shall be too. He would make his mother proud, he was sure of it.

 _Perhaps_... his thoughts wandered to his cousin, recently orphaned and staying in Brandy Hall. He had been so very fond of the boy's parents, and had met Frodo plenty of times before their death, when he had been an excitable, happy lad.

He could provide for him easily, take him in to Bag End if he was willing. It could do them both some good.

For the first time, Bilbo saw Thorin's eyes in the forget-me-nots and morning glories within his garden, in the soft blue of the sky, and the vibrant colour in a similarly troubled young hobbit's own eyes. As the daisies and eschscholzias fluttered and flowed delicately in the wind outside his door, he smiled.

He remembered.

**Author's Note:**

> Forget-Me-Not — true love, remembrance  
> Morning Glory — love that is in vain/love that is doomed, trust, respect  
> Eschscholzia (Golden Poppy) — reference to Hands part in this series, peace  
> Daisy — reference to Hands part in this series, white petals symbolizing innocence/purity, yellow center/pollen symbolizing corruption
> 
> Yes, I am aware Bilbo canonically doesn't adopt Frodo until he is 99, but this is only a few years after the end of the quest (I also think Frodo will be younger in my story) and I just really want Frodo in my last part as an adorable shy little kid with him and Bilbo helping each other. Hope you enjoyed! Again, please try to keep an eye out for the final part. I will try my best to upload it soon (though consistent, productive writing is not really my strong suit). Thanks for reading!


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